Serpensortia
by Lilith Eden
Summary: SLASH-WIP! Bored during summer, Harry Potter casts a spell learned from an enemy. And said enemy, Draco Malfoy, has just turned into an illegal Animagus - a snake. And the spell? The snake summon - Serpensortia! Guess what snake Harry gets...?
1. The Summon

Serpensortia

Chapter One REPOST

By:

Lilith Eden, and it's her very first story. She would appreciate reviews, and constructive criticism. Flames will be ignored, because flaming is rude and unnecessary—even for the "worst" authors, of which there are none.

Disclaimer:

The characters are NOT mine, as we all know. J.K. Rowling is the goddess who, though in my opinion did not do the greatest job on the fifth book, created the characters used in this story. I _believe_ the plot line is my creation, as I have never seen this done before, but if someone has, I send my sincerest apologies.

WARNINGS:

Alrighty, homophobes, you can just click that cute little "Back" button at the upper left hand corner of the screen, because this story is SLASH. The flames your closed mind has your hands type out will be ignored!

Pairings:

Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy… And possibly mentions of others.

Summary:

Harry Potter is going out of his mind from boredom. But, luckily the Ministry ignores his illegal magic use, and Harry decides to conjure up some reptilian company. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy has found an interesting spell in the Malfoy Library…

Other Important Info:

Sirius Black never died. Why? Because I love the guy too much, and I don't want this story to be very angsty. Therefore, Lucius Malfoy never went to Azkaban. In my story, just picture that Sirius was never sent through the veil, with a little help from a certain Death Eater, and all Death Eaters made it out in the nick of time.

__

And now presenting…

Serpensortia!

Bottle green eyes looked disinterestedly at the glowing red lights beside him. _4:59 AM _read the clock's display. His alarm was to go off in about, 'Four, three, two…'

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! 

Harry swung his long legs swiftly off the edge of the bed, sort-of-uncomfortable from lying in the dip Dudley's large body had worn into it. Grabbing some clothes out of the beaten dresser, he slipped quietly out his bedroom door and down the hall to the bathroom.

Leaving the lights off, Harry whispered, "_Lumos_," and let his wand rest on the edge of the tub. Feeling slightly foolish for being _girly_—as he did when he was here every morning, before quickly brushing it off with "Well, I _am_ gay," as his reasonable excuse—he reluctantly allowed himself to pour a small amount of bubble bath into the rapidly flowing stream of water, bubbles erupting over the top of the liquid surface.

Once it was filled, Harry stepped lightly into the water, letting out a relieved sigh as the warm water worked it's magic on his sore muscles. Uncle Vernon decided this summer that, since Harry was a little older now, he could do much more physical labor around the house, and Harry's body was showing the slightly painful, yet attractive results.

Long, strenuous days of working for his Uncle had developed lean muscles under a surprisingly flawless layer of golden skin. He had filled out perfectly. His broad shoulders tapered into a chiseled torso, featuring a little hoop through his left nipple, and long muscular arms. Not only was his nipple pierced, but he also had a silver stud on the lobe of each ear, and a thin barbell in the cartilage of his right. A line of jet black hair led from his belly button down under one of the many pairs of faded jeans he so loved to wear—he had some wizarding money turned Muggle and went for a long over-due shopping trip—that fell dangerously low on his slim hips and gripped his butt lightly. His hair had grown out slightly, the unruly locks spiking out stylishly. A self-performed eyesight correction spell had lost him his trademark glasses, freeing his unbelievable eyes to shine to their full luster. Only his hands showed the signs of his laboring—a thin callousing roughened the pad of every finger.

Harry frowned slightly as the very soft bubble bath scent invaded his nose. When he had gone shopping, the fragrance had struck him, and he had bought it immediately. Whenever he used it, he had gotten an irritating sense of déjà vu, which led to a lot of early-morning-bath contemplating. These mornings had been for a relaxation before the hard day to follow, and all he could do was try to determine where he had breathed in this particular scent before.

When finally he realized from where he remembered it, he wished he had never thought of it in the first place.

__

The Golden Trio ran towards Potions, breathing heavily. They were late, and there was going to be hell to pay. Thankfully, their sixth year was almost over, and they would have the whole summer away from Snape and the other Slytherins.

Ron, ever the graceful one, flung the heavy door to the classroom and every eye was watching the three of them.

"Professor Snape, sir, before you-" Hermione began.

"No excuses, Granger. Go to your seats!" Snape roared. The three stood confused for a moment, wondering why he hadn't issued detentions, or deducted house points. "Well?! SIT DOWN!" There was an odd smirk on the snarky bastard's twisted face.

It didn't take them long to realize just why Snape hadn't given them detentions. There would be plenty of chances later, for there were, as usual, only enough seats in the room to hold each student in the class and no more. Two were by each other, and the other was next to…

'No flippin' way!' Harry thought, eyes turning to his friends.

Ron and Hermione, who were already looking sympathetically at Harry, dashed to the two seats by each other, leaving Harry to sit by his loathed arch nemesis—well, besides Voldemort, that is.

Draco Malfoy looked at him as he took the spot in the seat next to him, quickly looked to see if Snape was watching, and said in an odd, quiet voice as he turned back to him, "Well, Potter. Looks like we're to work together today, hm?" Odd because it wasn't his usual sneering. Harry looked at him suspiciously.

"Way to state the obvious, Malfoy," he whispered back harshly, but being careful to not rouse Snape's attention. Lucky him, Snape was already explaining today's potion, and once he started he didn't hear anything but his own voice. Harry didn't need to worry much about listening to him, seeing as how he was partnered with Malfoy who knew seemingly everything about potions.

Malfoy gave him a weak glare in response and turned his attention to the front of the room, to Snape, and appeared to become immediately immersed in what was being taught, regardless of the negative, albeit short, conversation that had passed between them.

'What's with him?'

Snape told the class to gather the supplies from the storage closet, and Harry stood up prepared to get them for himself and Malfoy. Malfoy was standing, too, and their eyes met. Both boys' eyes narrowed in an icy glare. If looks could kill, these two pairs of lethal eyes would have been considered illegal weapons. Harry, his eyes the color of the Avada Kedavra killing curse, and Malfoy's that of a deadly, swirling ice storm.

As earlier, Malfoy's glare just wasn't up to its usual freeze, and was melting into an emotionless stare. Harry's glare turned confused, and he became uncomfortable with this new attitude of Malfoy's. Unnerved, he headed towards the storage closet, vaguely aware that Malfoy was a step behind him.

They came to the closet as the rest of the students were returning to their seats. Walking deep into the long closet, Harry began to gather the ingredients.

Once he had gotten all the items from the far end of the closet, he turned to head back out to the classroom. Malfoy was on his tiptoes, apparently having trouble reaching something off of a high shelf nearer to the closet door.

"Haven't gotten your growth spurt, eh, Malfoy?" Harry said, hoping to get a normal, angry response out of the boy. Malfoy sighed, rolling back onto his heels, and turned to him. Malfoy's eyes raised to look directly into Harry's, and he gave a little half smile that made Harry take a small step back. Malfoy let out a soft chuckle and shrugged.

"What can I say? My father isn't all that_ tall, and my mother isn't even _near_ it. Just my luck, huh? Isn't all that bad, I suppose, just a bit hard to reach things higher up sometimes." Harry nodded slowly, more confused than ever at the sudden change in Malfoy._

"Uh, yeah… Heh-heh," Harry began awkwardly, walking towards Malfoy and the last item they needed. He stopped a foot away from him, but Malfoy wasn't moving from the spot. Harry stood a good six inches over the ashen blonde. Harry looked down at Malfoy, and their eyes once again locked. This time there wasn't any animosity, only a little apprehension on Harry's part, and slight amusement from them both. "Wow, you really are_ short!"_

Malfoy laughed, this time with a little more enthusiasm, and some light lit his molten silver-blue eyes. Harry almost choked, but held his composure. Instead, he reached up to grab the pickled newt eyes off the top shelf, so high up that even he had to stand up on his tiptoes.

'How on earth did everyone else get this? Most people aren't tall enough to-" his thought was cut of by a sharp intake of breath. Still on his toes, arm extended and holding the jar, Harry looked down to see Malfoy looking at him oddly. Harry slid slowly back onto his feet.

Malfoy looked to be debating about something, and suddenly he closed the small space between the two. Their chest brushed slightly, and Malfoy looked down at the contact point. It was a hardly noticeable shift of eyes, for just as quickly as he had looked down, he was leaning his face towards Harry's ear and whispering slowly, "I'm not the person you think I am, Harry Potter." And the milky white neck and shimmering, silvery hair by Harry's tilted head smelled of wintergreen.

Harry shook his head to rid himself of the memory of the beginning of his reluctantly changed view of Draco Malfoy. Things had changed, not that he ever showed Malfoy that. Once Dumbledore had told him about the Malfoys, he had been disbelieving, but eventually realized, from Draco's obvious personality switch, that Dumbledore had not lied to him again. So, Malfoy _wasn't_ who he thought he was, but that only made Harry more determined to keep his attitude towards Malfoy the same as always. If someone was killed because of him, he would just… Harry would never be able to forgive himself. 

Forcing himself out of his thoughts yet again, he brought his hand out of the water and noticed that his fingers were pruned. He looked to the clock on the wall and figured there was enough time for a quick shower. After draining the water, Harry turned on the showerhead, washed and conditioned his hair, lathered his body with soap and rinsed, and stepped out of the shower to prepare for the decidedly predictable day ahead. 

And away from the alluring scent of wintergreen bubble bath.

Much later that day, well into the night really, Harry collapsed exhaustedly onto his bed. The day had been like every day the whole summer. He got up, took his private bath, got dressed, cooked breakfast, cleaned dishes; then, he went outside to trim the perfect hedges, mow the manicured lawn, and tend to the bright flowers and the colorful garden. By that time, it was time to go inside to make Petunia and Dudley, who came home from school to stuff his face with food, some lunch, then clean the dishes, then dust the house, then… It was all the same way through the whole day, every day. Cook, work, clean, work… Work, work, and more work!

The worst of it was, to Harry, the lack of company. During the course of the monotonous days, the only talking Harry did was, "Yes, sir/ma'am/Dudley," or "I'm sorry, sir/ma'am/Dudley," and occasionally a "Thank you," on the rare times that Aunt Petunia allowed him to eat with them, seeing how absolutely famished the boy was and feeling the smallest calculable amount of pity for him.

The letters from his friends and Sirius just wasn't enough. He needed face-to-face contact with someone… Or, something

This utter loneliness and boredom led to this moment—Harry was holding his wand as he opened his mouth to call a spell that would hopefully change the remainder of his summer for the better. Funny how the spell was learned from his, well, ex-arch enemy, he supposed, and had gotten him into heaps of trouble.

He looked out his bedroom window and saw the full moon glowing unnaturally bright in the perfectly cloudless inky blankness of the summer night sky. Wasting no more time, Harry lifted his hand and pictured Draco Malfoy in their second year, the Dueling Club, and waved his arm in a mimic of the graceful arc Malfoy's arm had swept that day.

"_Serpensortia!_"

__

A Week Earlier…

"Draco? Draco, are you awake yet? I'm coming in," Lucius Malfoy called from outside Draco's bedroom door.

Draco sat up in his bed, straightening his black silk pajamas. He answered his father with a smile gracing his groggy morning face.

"Come in, Father!"

Lucius Malfoy walked into the room with long strides, as was custom of the Malfoy men. Coming to the edge of Draco's bed, he helped himself to a seat next to his only child.

"I'm off to see Albus," Lucius said quietly, as if fearing that Voldemort himself would hear him speaking and come to kill him. 'As if,' thought Draco. 'There are so many secrecy spells on this house, I doubt that we even know all that goes on around here!'

"So early?" Draco replied, voice slightly raspy from the night of disuse. Lucius chuckled heartily, running a hand through Draco's hair to mess it up. It was his biggest pet peeve, and Lucius took every advantage to use it against him. He often teased Draco about it, too, for Draco now wore his hair in a very Muggle way, and very Harry Potter way—longish and, he admitted, attractively messy.

__

"Draco, your hair was messed up before I even walked into the room," Lucius drawled, rolling his eyes at his complaining son. 

"It was perfect before you came in and ruined it, Father!" Draco whined indignantly. "It's called style_, not like you would know, _obviously_. You still wear your hair long like you were living in Great-great-great-grandfather Malfoy's era."_

"I give in," he laughed. "Immaculately messy. My son is such a poof!" Lucius said, throwing a jovially arm around his son's shoulders.

"Dad," Draco murmured, his suddenly trained on some spot on the thick carpeting. "Dad, there's something I need to tell you." And Draco looked into his father's eyes.

"Draco! It's nine forty-five in the morning!" Lucius shook his long-haired head in amusement. "I'll be gone all day. There is much for Severus and I to tell him about the Death Eater meeting last night…" These days, Lucius was always awkward when talking about Death Eaters and Voldemort. He worried that Voldemort was suspicious of him and his godfather. "He may have found a way to use his wand against Potter, and-"

"Alright, I'll see you later," Draco said, effectively cutting his father off. Lucius just nodded, understanding why Draco didn't appreciate this conversation. He ruffled Draco's hair once more, and left to meet with Dumbledore.

An hour and a half later found Draco standing in front of his ornate full-length mirror, which was spouting off complements to the gorgeous blonde.

"Ohhh," the female voice of the mirror cooed. It seemed this particular mirror was good with words, in Draco's opinion. "Draco Malfoy with his iridescent violet-blue eyes! The most amazing eyes in the world!"

'I could think of an exception to that one,' he thought bitterly.

"Look at those abdominal muscles! Is that… Is that _metal in your navel_?" the mirror let out a flirtatious giggle, "You have a bar in the bottom of your belly button? I never thought I'd find something so utterly… Mmm, _scrumptious_!" Draco smiled widely at that. He had been nervous when getting that done, worried how it would turn out. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the little silver bar, protruding from the skin below his belly button, was as attractive to someone—thing?—as he thought it was. 

"You must work out! And, oh… Your hair! Those lustrous locks! So blonde it's almost _silver_! If only I had hands to touch it—it would feel softer than it looks, softer than the finest silk!"

Draco smiled and winked at the mirror, and he heard—her, it?—let out a deep sigh. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy being endlessly praised. He quite liked it, actually, even though it was only a mirror. He grabbed a pair of Muggle jeans, which he had become fond of, and found to be very comfortable, and slid then over his narrow hips. This seemed to egg the mirror on.

"If only I was human! Those hipbones—_so delicious_! Dear, you don't know just what jutty hips like that can do to a girl," she purred seductively, "or possibly to a handsome young man!"

Draco, now to the point of laughing nervously in sudden embarrassment, said his good-byes, and promising his return, to the mirror now mourning his departure, though temporary. He walked the many corridors of the Manor to the family Library.

Draco was becoming irritated. He had been searching the Library for almost an hour and hadn't come across anything that looked remotely interesting. Feet dragging, he turned the corner leading to another row of books. His eyes skimmed the bindings, hoping to see something that would keep him occupied for the rest of the day. It was always boring when his father was away, so hard for him to keep-

__

'The Art of Animagi?' His eyes widened. Why had he never seen this book before?

It looked like the not only this day, but the rest of the next week, was going to be very, _very_ interesting.

The end of the week was here, and Draco felt as if no time had passed at all. He had been so completely engrossed in the process of becoming an Animagus that he had hardly even spoken to his father. Though, when he had spoken to him, he had told him of his plans on becoming an illegal Animagus. His father, a true Slytherin, couldn't have been more proud of his son's plans.

It had only taken Draco a few hours to read the details on becoming the Animagus, but the process was what had taken him the full seven days. He had worked diligently and had completed the essential steps for the preparation.

Draco now stood out in the Malfoy Botanical Gardens looking up at the most beautiful nighttime sky he could ever remember witnessing. He walked up to his favorite fountain, the statue of a gorgeous wood sprite, wings and all. He especially loved it for the fairies that seemed to gather around it on particularly beautiful nights. As he lay down on the thick railing around the flowing fountain, said fairies flew slow loops and circles around his body, shimmering dust falling from their wings and disappearing a split-second before it touched him.

Draco closed his eyes and mused at the advantages of becoming an Animagus. Being the Slytherin that he was, immediately his mind went straight to spying. When he was in his Animagus form, he could go unnoticed by his peers, find out all their secrets and whatnot. He could spy on Harry Potter, even. And he would, as that was the only way, it seemed, that Draco would ever get to be around Harry Potter and not feel the burning hostility aimed at him.

Draco smelled the freshly cut grass, and thought of Harry. Harry always smelled like spring and grass.

__

He thought that after that day in Potions, Harry would begin to give him a chance.

Dumbledore had called Draco to his office that morning before classes and discussed with Draco the possibility of telling Harry that Draco was, believe it or not, on the side of the Light. Draco didn't need convincing. He had always wanted a chance to be friends with Potter. He could have been friends with Harry Potter. He had always been bitter after Harry rejected him that first day of Hogwarts…

"Well, then, my boy! If you don't mind, I'd like to tell him tonight!" Dumbledore beamed. Draco nodded his head in grateful acquiescence.

Draco walked out of Potions with a smile, and Crabbe and Goyle thought the world must be ending. They were casting worried glances his way, and Crabbe had even go so far as to ask him if something was wrong with him. Draco replied by turning to face him and smiled even brighter. They were now sure that there was something wrong with him…

Draco really couldn't find it in himself to really give a damn. He had just had a civil, even kind-of pleasant, conversation with Harry. And, Potions was the last class of the day, meaning that Harry was most likely on his way to Dumbledore's office that very moment. He couldn't wait until the following day when he would get to see Harry's reaction to the news.

The next night Draco collapsed on his bed in the sixth year Slytherin dorm room. Casting numerous privacy and locking spells on the thick curtains surrounding the four-poster, he recounted his day. He threw his arm over his eyes and took in a shaky breath. The day hadn't turned out at all as Draco had expected.

When Draco had offered him a smile from across the Great Hall during breakfast, he had been sent the coldest glare he could imagine. Harry Potter had rejected him again.

With a new, stronger determination, Draco lifted the complicated potion he had been creating the past week, downed it, and braced himself for the inevitable searing pain that was guaranteed to come with the first transformation.

As fire seemed to spread through his veins, and bones twisted and reshaped, Draco fiercely held back the scream threatening to break through his lips. A few minutes later, pain slowly fading, Draco caught a quick glimpse of his new reptilian shape—a teal Ceylonese viper. But, before he could relish in the new form, a whispered voice flooded his mind, and he felt his body lifting.

"_Serpensortia_…"

End Serpensortia: Chapter One

****

HELP! I feel dumb for asking, but I _need_ to figure this out. When I uploaded it in the HTML, the italics and underlining formatting was working, but the spacing was off. When I uploaded it in the Text Only, the spacing was working, but the italics and underlining formatting was off… Do you know what the hell's up with all that? UGH! I wish it were EASIER THAN THIS! :P lol

And LOTS OF LOVE to my reviewers:

Lyonessheart- Thanks for the help! Just my luck it won't fully work, though!

brit

DarkPrincess3

Isis-mystic

Prophetess of Hearts

Hell bitch, darkness and light

Lady of Serpents

Fantasy101

Brenna8

And the anonymous reviewers!

XOX,

Lily


	2. Becoming His Snake

Serpensortia

Chapter Two: Becoming His Snake

Rating (because I forgot to put it in the last chapter!):

R, just to be safe. There is swearing in this chapter, and there most likely will be in pretty much all the chapters to come. I want this to be realistic, and teenagers swear. Also, this story will probably get pretty sexual in the later chapters. You've been forewarned!

OMFG, the reviews! I cannot BELIEVE the response for this story! I love you all sooo much you can't fathom it, I'm sure!!!

SO, special thanks to…

Sani Wolf

Sowen

star

GeminiEmerald

LadyLilyPotter

Kaylie

Sarah Greenleaf

And iced-forest!

__

Last time…

As fire seemed to spread through his veins, and bones twisted and reshaped, Draco fiercely held back the scream threatening to break through his lips. A few minutes later, pain slowly fading, Draco caught a quick glimpse of his new reptilian shape—a teal Ceylonese viper. But, before he could relish in the new form, a whispered voice flooded his mind, and he felt his body lifting.

"_Serpensortia_…"

__

And on with the show…

As soon as the spell had left Harry lips, a serpent shot from his wand onto the floor next to his bed. He gaped at the odd looking thing. The snake was about two feet long and had a very triangular shaped head. Its belly and lower jaw were a snowy white while the skull and upper body was a strange light bluish-green color. Specks of black, dark green, and baby blue were spread around to, he figured, provide camouflage. Must be something tropical… The viper lifted its head and focused large eyes on Harry. He was astonished at the vividness of blue eyes looking, if it were possible for a reptile, very confused and disoriented.

"_Potter?_"

Before Draco had time to contemplate the odd disembodied sensation, his serpentine body landed on a roughly carpeted floor.

'_Carpet?_' he thought. Wasn't he just outside? Coiling awkwardly, and feeling very unnerved by the sensation of the new body, he started to lift his head to survey his surroundings. Immediately his gaze landed on—what the hell? Without a thought, Draco heard words come from his own mouth, his human mind vaguely aware that he made a frantic sounding hiss, but understanding a spoken language all the same.

"_Okay, before you decide to kill me, please let me talk… As you obviously know, I'm Harry Potter. Uh, you're probably wondering what's happening right now, seeing as how you have just been taken from who-knows-where and fallen on the ground in some strange human's room and all…_"Harry began in Parseltongue, trying desperately to grab a hold on the situation. Draco was too dumbfounded to respond.

"_Well, uhm, I spelled you here. You must know about magic and all that if you know me… I guess you want an explanation for _why_ I brought you here, huh?_"Harry paused, not knowing what to say, and obviously waiting for Draco to save him by responding.

Draco forced himself out of his stupor, and suddenly thoughts began processing rapidly. Where was he, and why was Potter here? The room was an utter disgrace. It couldn't have been more than five feet by five feet. The walls were almost completely bare, with the exception of a small red and gold Gryffindor flag and a few magic pictures pinned up next to the bed. As he looked closer to the pictures, he saw it was of Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Was this Potter's _bedroom_? Why wasn't he living in luxury like any other wizard as famous as he would be? And how come he could _see_? Didn't snakes use their sense of smell, by use of their tongues, to "see"? Maybe it had something to do with him actually being human, and—he was cut off as Harry made an uncomfortable sound.

'_Yeesh, how long have I been sitting here like an idiot for?_'

"_Yes, yes, an explanation would be helpful right now… Oh, and no worries, I wasn't thinking about killing you… Yet."_ A thought had hit him. Harry was seeing a snake, not Draco Malfoy. A plan was already formulating in the Slytherin's devious mind. If he was careful, this could be a deliciously advantageous situation. He'd show Harry Potter for repeatedly rejecting the friendship Draco offered…

"_Well, then, uh, Mister… Mister uhm…_" A thought seemed to hit Harry, and his eyes widened comically. He waved his hands in front of his face and started speaking swiftly,"_I'm guessing mister because of the, uh, the masculinity of your voice—er, hiss, that is. What if you're not a male snake? Then I've been sitting here making an idiot out of myself, and I'm really _really_ sorry, and—_" Draco interrupted, before Harry could make _more_ of an idiot of himself than he already was, by letting out a hiss equivalent to a reptilian laugh.

"_It is alright, Harry Potter. There was nothing offending by your bumbling, impulsive statements. I am a male, hence the masculine timbre of my voice. And you may call me…_" he struggled desperately for a false name. Something beautiful, something intriguing, something worthy of a Malfoy… Ah-ha!

"_My name… is Amadeo,_" his forked tongue flickered as he spoke.

Harry nodded, and smiled, grateful for having been stopped in his embarrassing rant. Suddenly his smiled faded, and he seemed to be contemplating something.

"_Now that I really think about it, I can't believe I really did this. I just summoned you, Amadeo, from your home in a purely selfish desire for some company this summer. What the hell was I thinking? You had no say in this! Who am I to go off magicking things up for myself without their permission? God, I don't even remember the spell that dismisses conjured snakes!_" Here he paused to take in a breath, fists clenched in anger and frustration with himself, then continued,"_And even then, would it send you back home, or would it just, I dunno, kill you or something? Why don't I ever seem to think things through when it's really the most— _"

Draco, at this point becoming greatly irritated at Harry's annoying non-stop babbling, did what first came to the forefront of his serpentine mind—opening his jaws wide he let out a terrifying hiss, large fangs displayed for Harry's now fearful eyes. The fangs were dripping, dripping with…

"_Oh, holy fuck, you're poisonous…_" Harry whispered shakily on the sharp intake of his breath. Screw the prophecy and Voldemort, it looked as if he was going to die by viper venom. He backed up, shins hitting the side of the bed. He toppled over, arms flailing around in an attempt to come across something to stop his fall. He had no such luck, and he fell back and his head hit the wall, unconsciousness turning his world black.

Draco sighed mentally as he watched Potter fall and knock his head. He wasn't worried; so Potter would have a bump on his head, but he knew the fall was nothing fatal. Harry Potter had been through much worse than this.

With nothing to do but wait for Potter to come to, Draco explored the room. The bed was atrocious. It was a little twin size with wire framing, just barely holding Potter in it, covered with nothing but an old sheet. There was a window, though small, on the far wall showing a nice view of the moon he had been looking at not even a half-hour before. A small desk with a tiny chair was situated under the window, and the staining was wearing off in places giving it an ugly, uneven coloring. A short closet stood next to the door and it was cracked open slightly. And the wood of the closet didn't match the wood of the desk! What a disgrace!

Slithering over to the wardrobe, Draco peered inside. Finally! Something he approved of! Looks like Potter had finally gotten himself a slight sense of style! Faded jeans, some sporting stylish frayed spots that parents of these days absolutely detested, tee shirts with bold lettering and amusing catch-phrases on the front, khakis, and tight looking sweaters… Altogether very preppy and very…

'_American Muggle,_' Draco determined. '_Potter must have paid big money to get a cross-Atlantic Portkey. Then again, no one ever said Potter didn't have money. I bet he's got stacks of gold in his family vault._'

Draco's eyes looked the room over once more, disappointed that the visual tour was already over. This had to be the most boring room he had ever been in. But, now that his curiosity had, he supposed, been _temporarily_ satisfied, his reasonable and worrisome brain took its turn and let the troubles he was facing surface.

Draco wanted to take advantage of all this. That _was_ the reason he became an Animagus—to better benefit himself, and there were plenty good things that he could get out of this. The Slytherin in him was cackling with glee at the prospect.

'_But,_' he thought, '_there are also plenty enough things to worry about, enough to rival the good. Namely the fact that staying in this form for long periods of time will eventually drain me of so much magic that my body will turn itself back human so that my magic can replenish._ _So, I've got one week, as the book said. One week tops. But, shit, what do I do after that?_'

Nearly an entire _hour_ Draco sat and waited for Harry to wake. The time had been well used for a span of about ten minutes while he continued to contemplate how the hell he was going to get himself out of this mess. But he had soon bored of this. Then he had tried his hardest to find a way on top of Harry's desk to snoop through the papers he could just catch a glimpse of, but his lack of height and ability to stand up made this feat impossible for him. He had managed to get to the top of the short chair by looping around its leg, but the chair was just a few scant inches too far from the desk top for Draco to reach.

Just as he was ready to bite the chair in frustration, he heard a groan coming from the bed, and his head whipped around.

Harry reached his hand up and rubbed the back of his head, eyes squinting so that his eyes were barely slits. He seemed to have forgotten the presence of a venomous snake less than a foot from his legs that were dangling off the edge of his bed. Well, Draco refused to be forgotten so easily!

Hoping to gain Harry's attention, Draco let out another great hiss. Harry's eyes opened wide, and whirled around in the direction the hiss had come from. Now realizing that Harry was without glasses, Draco got a view of his eyes, the color of new spring grass. What was with him and green-ness and grass and spring? Draco's hiss cut off immediately as he caught the fear that returned to them. Draco sighed.

__

"There is nothing to fear, Harry Potter. And, since you were so distressed about my opinion of this whole matter, I feel it necessary to let you know that you need not worry. I have decided to become your familiar."

Harry was… relieved, he supposed. The snake gave him the heebie-jeebies, for lack of a better word. It just seemed so, so _familiar_. Another sense of déjà vu, the way the snake talked. Like it was trying to sound more sophisticated and elegant than it really was? No, sophistication it seemed to have, oddly enough. No, it just sounded unnatural, like it should be spouting off venomous words—venomous as the poison in said viper's slim body.

__

'What the hell am I thinking? It's just a snake, for Merlin's sake! Like a snake would need to keep up a façade!'

Harry smiled at the serpent's words, though. He and Voldemort had even more in common now, it seemed.

__

"Well, Amadeo, for that I'm very grateful. I guess you'd like a tour around the house, then? C'mon, I'll show you," Harry dropped a hand down to the floor. Amadeo slithered over to the outstretched hand and looped around it, making his was to Harry's warm neck. Harry shuddered slightly at the odd feeling of the scales on his skin, but found it to be comforting. Another part of his body protected, whether it be protection from Voldemort's curses or Vernon Dursley's fists.

Draco decided he liked this view. He hadn't really realized how cold he was until he had touched the skin of the Golden Boy's neck. He found himself winding tighter around the golden column, but not too tight as to frighten Harry into thinking he was going to kill him.

__

'Ah, the joys of being a cold-blooded reptile. But one could have argued that I was, am, as cold as a snake. Show's how little they know about Draco Malfoy! And Harry'll be the one to show them the real me…'

Draco's was constantly turning, looking around the house as Harry pointed here and there, following Harry's every word and gesture. There were no lights on in any room of the house. It seemed that Harry's relatives, who he had brusquely mentioned at the passing of each one's respective room, didn't stay up past midnight, even on weekends. Seemed like quite a boring bunch…

They were now heading down the stairs, and taking a sharp right and going towards the kitchen. Harry paused briefly, halfway between the kitchen and the staircase, and turned his head. He was staring at what looked like a little storage closet built into the stairwell. Quite convenient, really, for people who didn't have room like the Malfoys did, to throw excess things into.

__

"And that's my old bedroom."

As Harry continued his walk to the kitchen, Draco strained his eyes to look in through the slots in the door to the little closet. Sure enough, he saw a worn cot, no blankets, and what looked like little broken toy soldiers resting on a ledge above the head of the bed.

It seemed his Muggle relatives had indeed found this cupboard very "convenient."

After the tour was over, Harry made his way up to his bedroom upstairs. Amadeo was still curled around his neck, looking as if he was ready to fall asleep. Sleep… That posed an interesting question.

__

"So, Amadeo, where would you, uh, like to sleep?" Harry asked. Amadeo looked puzzled at the query, but gathered himself quickly and answered.

__

"Well, if you wouldn't mind terribly, it would be rather nice to lie on your bed. Being cold-blooded has its obvious disadvantages, and I really do detest being cold."

Harry nodded, and gently pulled the snake off his neck and set him on the bed. He took his shirt off, and his hands trailed down to unbutton his jeans.

Draco had immediately negative effects of his cold blood as he left Harry's neck. A horrible chill passed through him at the lack of contact, but he felt his body quickly adjusting to the temperature of the room. He turned his head to look at "his human" as he had humorously begun to refer to Harry as in his mind. What he saw was Harry whipping off his tight tee shirt, and he found himself even more delighted at the sight under it. Draco's tongue flickered as Harry's abdominal muscles clenched and rippled.

__

"Dad… Dad, there's something I need to tell you."

Lucius's arm slid off his son's shoulders slowly, and he turned to look at him in the eye. What he found was something he hadn't seen in his son's eyes in a long time—fear. He hadn't seen that look since he was still following the likes of You-Know-Who.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, Draco."

Draco looked to the floor once again, and Lucius used a finger to gently force his son to look at him.

"Dad, you're right. I am_ a 'poof.' I am gay."_

__

And the look in Draco's eyes turned from fear to pride. And Lucius was proud, too.

__

'Daaamn, what have you been up to this summer, Potter?' Draco thought. Draco's admittedly voyeuristic thoughts were cut short as the long-fingered hands that had stripped off Harry's shirt were now unzipping Harry's pants. Draco's serpentine head turned away from the sight just as his eyes saw as much of the delectable treasure trail that his prude mind would allow.

__

'When did Potter get so goddamn hot_?'_

Wearing nothing but some silky black boxers, much like a pair Draco himself owned, Harry climbed into bed.

__

"Sleep tight, Amadeo."

The next morning Harry woke on his own, no alarm—it was Saturday, the weekend, after all. It was a bit earlier than he usually woke up though, so what was the reason? How about the object squirming under his arm? And it was hissing. Yup, Amadeo was awake, and the moving must have awoken him. He moved his arm, and Amadeo shot out from under it and onto his bare stomach.

__

"Good morning," Amadeo said shortly.

__

"G'morning, Amadeo. I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, quite well, thank you. You happen to be something of a human furnace during the night. That's all very well and good for something who craves warmth such as I."

Harry smiled, lifted Amadeo from his chest, and deposited him on the bed next to him. Stretching, he groaned appreciatively at the sensation of the muscles loosening.

__

"I'm going to take a quick shower. I'll be back in a bit, and then we can get on with the day, alright?" Without waiting for a response, he grabbed some clothes out of his wardrobe and headed out the door.

Watching the retreating figure, Draco decided this was going to be one interesting week.

Notes:

Draco's snake name, Amadeo, was taken from Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles - it's the Vampire Armand's second name. Couldn't help using it, it's just so dang PRETTY!

Also, is this chapter long enough? I felt like it just wasn't as long as the reader in me would have liked, and I'd like some feedback as to how you feel about it. Problem - More writing, longer wait. Is it worth it?

Awaiting your replies,

Lily


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